


Neașteptat

by bickz



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Alcohol, Dirty Talk, Drunk Sex, F/M, Fingering, First Time, Hand Jobs, Smut, Vaginal Sex, im sorry i suck at tagging, mild asphyxiation, mild exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 10:35:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11804283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bickz/pseuds/bickz
Summary: Sypha hates Trevor Belmont and his shitty attitude with every fibre of her being. He's rude and apathetic and a drunk, and she wants absolutely nothing to do with him. Or, so she thinks... A bottle of ale later, and Sypha isn't very sure of anything.





	Neașteptat

**Author's Note:**

> i'm gross and i've watched those four fucking episodes like six times and the sexual tension is just too much and i love trevor and sypha and i cant wait for them to have angry sex in canon... so! i wrote this stupid fic to tide myself over until more episodes are released ((((,:  
> enjoy!

This wasn’t how things were supposed to turn out.

She was supposed to help the Belmont heir to fulfill the prophecy, to awaken the Sleeping Soldier and fight together to bring peace back to Wallachia. But no one told her that their “hero” would turn out to be a repulsive asshole. That he would be a drunkard and a scoundrel that had lost all hope in humanity. The stories never forewarned her of this.

Then again, of course the stories wouldn’t paint one of the three saviours of Wallachia as a selfish, lazy prick. 

Sypha sighs and runs a hand through her hair, trying desperately to convince herself to just suck it up, to deal with Trevor’s bullshit for the sake of bringing down Dracula. She can suffer in the name of her people. At least, she hopes that she can. No, she has to! She just needs… a little bit of liquid courage.

With a rather disgruntled huff, Sypha reaches for her tankard and takes a deep swing of the bitter ale. She’s never drank stuff like this, only sips of wine or champagne for special events. But, she supposes that this is a “special event” in it’s own right. She swallows her mouthful and quickly washes it down with another large gulp, some of the ale dribbling out the side of her mouth in her haste. Sypha can already feel the hazy clutches of the alcohol taking effect on her, and it actually feels quite nice. Things are looking up, it seems; she can finally tolerate sitting next to Trevor. 

Sypha gives a lazy grin and chuckles to herself. “I should have tried this sooner,” she muses to herself.

“Hm, never would’ve took you as the ale type,” a deep voice grumbles next to Sypha. 

She responds immediately with a noise of disgust and a roll of her eyes. So much for the alcohol making this brute bearable.

“Aw, don’t act so rude. I always thought Speakers enjoyed conversation,” Trevor goes on, a half-grin spreading across his flushed features. He somehow seems much more intoxicated than herself, which is surprising considering he must drink like this on a daily basis.

“We prefer to speak with those who will actually listen.” Sypha punctuates her response with another swing, emptying her cup. She can hear Trevor finishing his own tankard, followed by a loud sigh and a nauseating belch. The mage whips her head around to give him a disapproving glare and leans closer as she hisses at him, “Goddamnit, Belmont, could you at least  _ try _ to be quiet? If I hadn’t known better I would think you were raised in a barn with what little manners you possess. In case you were unaware, the others are  _ trying _ to sleep, you drunk.”

The grin on Trevor’s face grows and he shows no sign of remorse for his actions. “I’m not drunk,” he protests as he reaches out for the bottle of ale. His fingers bump gracelessly into the bottle, nearly knocking it over. “Just tipsy. Only slightly,” Trevor adds.

Sypha groans and bows her head, deliberately bumping her forehead on the table. She can’t believe that this is the man she is supposed to depend on to vanquish the demons from Wallachia. Trevor is nothing but a washed-up heir to an exiled line of vampire hunters. She can’t even fathom that he was the one that killed the cyclops. Then again, she didn’t actually see it happen. What if Trevor isn’t even an experienced hunter? What if he’s just some bandit parading around with the Belmont emblem and whip? Sypha groans again.

“The feeling is mutual,” Trevor sighs. Sypha raises her head to glower at him and opens her mouth to defend herself, only to stop when she sees him holding the empty ale bottle upside down with the most pathetic look on his face. “We’re all out of drink.” 

“Perfect excuse to go to bed then,” Sypha concludes tersely. She stands, intending to make her immense disdain for Trevor apparent by abruptly walking off. Unfortunately, the alcohol coursing through her veins has other plans for the mage. The whole world swirls sickeningly around her, causing her to bend forward and plant both hands on the table to keep her balance. “Shit,” she curses under her breath, closing her eyes.

“Ah, need some help there?” Trevor jests. She can hear some movement from his direction, but doesn’t dare to look at him. She would rather not give him the satisfaction of seeing just how flustered she is. “On the bright side, the alcohol should help you fall asleep. I’m actually surprised the others are able to rest so soundly considering the fate that awaits them tomorrow.”

“Sleep comes easily to us,” Sypha replies quietly. She takes a deep breath, opens her eyes and stands straight. “We live our entire lives with the threat of death at our heels. We do not fear much of anything,” she goes on solemnly as she pivots and heads towards her bedroll. 

It only takes a few steps before fate turns on Sypha, her foot catching in the hem of her robes and causing her to trip. She tries to react, to catch herself before she’s too far gone, but her limbs won’t respond swiftly enough. The little voice that has been cursing her stupidity all evening has given up at this point, is outright laughing at her fumble now. Sypha feels like crashing to the ground in a disgraceful heap is a fitting outcome for a fool such as herself -- a most generous punishment if she must be honest.

Instead, the fates decide to rub salt in Sypha’s wounded pride. The world stops tumbling past her, despite her not having moved a muscle. She doesn’t have to look to know who saved her. She can feel the strong arms around her waist, sense the heat radiating from his chest, smell the distinct aroma of alcohol and musk. Still, the mage lifts her head enough to make eye contact with those clear blues to confirm her fears. All Sypha can do is stare up at Trevor as she tries to come up with an appropriate response.

“You alright there?” he asks, and for once his voice doesn’t sound harsh; he actually seems genuinely concerned.

Sypha’s first instinct is to protect her pride, to somehow prove to this jerk that she isn’t some bumbling drunk. But, she would just be falling into Trevor’s trap, wouldn’t see? He set this all up, convinced her to drink with him so that she would become inebriated and make a fool of herself like this. He  _ wants  _ her to get flustered and upset. This conniving prick.

“Yes, I’m good. Now, let me go, you brute,” Sypha spits through clenched teeth, taming her annoyance in order to keep her voice low. She squirms in Trevor’s grasp with little effect. “Eugh, I really wish you wouldn’t touch me. Who knows the last time you bathed.”

Trevor frowns down at Sypha, very obviously feigning dejection. “Oh, come now. No need to be so cruel. You might hurt my feelings,” he replies, his lips quirking into an amused half-smile.

Something stirs in Sypha upon seeing that smug look, and she can feel the warmth creeping across her face. She falters, eyes wide and mouth open as she struggles to retort. Her hand instinctively clutches at Trevor’s shirt where she had been trying to push him away. He quirks an eyebrow at her, clearly perplexed by her sudden change in demeanour.

“Sypha--?”

Without warning, Sypha thrashes in Trevor’s grasp. She needs to get away from him right now, get away from this weird feeling that makes it hard for her to breathe or think. However, she doesn’t think her actions through very well, forgets to release his shirt as she struggles to be freed. Trevor is clearly taken off-guard and loses his balance in an attempt to keep his hold on Sypha. Once more, the mage finds herself plummeting to the ground. This time, though, she’s taking the hunter with her.

Sypha closes her eyes in preparation for the impact of hitting the ground probably with Trevor tumbling close behind her, maybe even falling on top of her. But, that never happens. Instead, she finds herself landing on something solid and warm that is most definitely not the floor. She blinks in confusion, her drunken mind slowly coming to terms with the situation. The  _ thing _ stirs, and she can hear a soft thumping and--  _ oh shit, she’s lying on top of Trevor. _

“O-oh,  _ God _ !” Sypha yelps, scrambling to push herself upright. But before she can move, a hand clamps around her mouth. 

“Jeez, would you shut up,” Trevor growls, and the sound goes right through Sypha. “Also, please stop moving. You’re right--  _ hnng. _ ”

Of course Sypha couldn’t  _ not _ move. She had landed on top of Trevor and was straddling his hips in the most awkward way possible, and she couldn’t just stay like that. Nonetheless, in her attempt to remove herself, she must have… well…  _ brushed _ against him, as evidenced by the guttural moan he let out. She immediately freezes, feels her heart hammering against her ribcage as her face turns beet red. This can’t be happening. 

“ _ Shit _ , Sypha,” Trevor groans, and his voice sounds so close that she can feel his breath against her hair. “Well, if that’s what you want…”

The hand still wrapped around Sypha’s back pulls her close, forces her hips down to grind roughly against his. She can feel something solid between them now, and she knows for a fact that it isn’t Trevor’s sword. She instantly pushes against his chest and lets out a muffled curse from behind his hand. Yet, he doesn’t seem to pay any mind, and if anything it urges him on, has him bucking up abruptly. 

“Shh, don’t be so loud,” Trevor teases. 

Sypha tilts her head back to shoot him a glare, but it melts as soon as she catches the lustful glint in Trevor’s eyes. No one has ever looked at her like this before. Then again, everyone tends to mistake her for a boy or avoids any intimacy on account of her being The Elder’s granddaughter. Besides, it’s just the alcohol messing with them. None of this would be happening if they were sober.

Still, it doesn’t negate the fact that these events are indeed unfolding. Whatever the cause of this situation is, Sypha is straddling Trevor Belmont and… enjoying it. She can feel the pleasant warmth seeping through her abdomen, willing her to press herself closer to him. The groan her actions elicit has her grinning excitedly.

“Yea, just like that,” Trevor praises, his hand lowering to needily grab at Sypha’s ass. She gasps behind his palm, shocked at how  _ good _ that feels. “More?”

Sypha nods quickly, grinds against him sporadically in an attempt to find a good angle. Trevor doesn’t move under her aside from the occasional squeeze of her ass. She takes this opportunity to adjust herself, reaching down to move her robes to minimise the amount of clothes between them. The heat that radiates from his growing erection has her tingling with excitement.

“Oh, God.  _ Fuck _ ,” Trevor groans, his voice louder than before. 

The sound of rustling on the other end of the room draws both of their attention, and they go deathly still as their heads whip around to face the direction of the sleeping Speakers. Sypha holds her breath, prays to whatever God there is that no one wakes up and catches her like this. How would she even explain this? She couldn’t. There is no logical excuse for being caught sitting on top of and grinding against Trevor Belmont after they’ve polished off an entire bottle of cheap ale. She would die of humiliation.

“Looks like we’re in the clear now.”

Sypha looks back at Trevor, eyes wide and disbelieving. They were so close to being caught and yet he wants to go on? She pulls his hand from her mouth so that she may snap at him. “ _ What? _ ” 

“Oh, did I misread you? Do you not want to continue?” Trevor’s grin falters.

If Sypha wasn’t flushed from ears to toes, she definitely is now. She turns her head away bashfully. “Of fucking course I want to go on,” she murmurs despite knowing that they shouldn’t. 

Trevor wastes no time in sneaking his hands up under Sypha’s robes, his calloused palms kneading at her bare thighs. She lets out a shaky breath and can’t help rubbing herself against him. It just feels so sinfully good. When those impatient fingers reach the mage’s briefs, she feels her heart jump into her throat. There’s a voice in the back of her head that reminds Sypha that she’s never done this before, that she’s drunk, that this is  _ Trevor Belmont _ , that her grandfather and fellow Speakers slumber not fifty feet away. But she won’t listen.

Without hesitation, Trevor slips his fingers under Sypha’s briefs, and she can feel him thumbing at her curls. She lets out a moan, but quickly silences herself with a hand over her mouth. The hunter chuckles as he takes his time pressing his thumb further and further down. Sypha’s hips buck up involuntarily until she finally feels the pad of his finger slip between her folds. 

“T-Trevor, Jesus,” Sypha whimpers pathetically. She needs him to touch her, to take her in the worst way, but he’s just teasing her. 

“Look here,” Trevor demands, and she doesn’t deny him.

Their eyes meet and something clicks. It’s like a dam breaking open, the emotions that flood through Sypha’s body and possess her. She surges up suddenly, brings her hands up to cradle Trevor’s jaw in her palms. His stubble tickles her fingers, and she thinks that is disgustingly endearing. Sypha sucks in a deep breath before leaning down and mashing her mouth against Trevor’s. He lets out a noise of surprise, but it swiftly fades into a deep growl. And oh  _ God _ , if that isn’t the most satisfying sound in the world.

Trevor’s hands continue their adventure under Sypha’s robe, but don’t get very far with their current clothes situation. When they finally pull apart from their kiss gasping for breath, he shakes his head. “You need… to get off of… me…” he pants, already removing his hands from her briefs.

Sypha barely has time to react, her head swirling from lack of oxygen and the alcohol that still dulls her senses, before Trevor is pushing her off of him. She knows better than to fight him, so she flops onto the ground with a huff. “Could we move to a bedroll while we’re at it?” she suggests, glancing at where Trevor had tossed his roll earlier. 

Trevor nods his agreement, taking a few moments to fetch the bedroll and lay it out on the other side of the table. At least that will give them some cover should any of their companions awaken and ruin their fun. He gestures for Sypha to come join him, and she gladly obliges. By the time she stands and meanders around the table, Trevor has already stripped down to just his pants and is sitting on the bedroll fumbling with his trousers. 

An amused giggle passes Sypha’s lips as she kneels beside him. “Having trouble there?” she teases and earns herself a displeased scowl. Trevor opens his mouth to make a remark, but she silences him with another sloppy kiss. 

It’s clear that Sypha has no idea what she’s doing, so thankfully Trevor is gracious enough to take control, tangling his fingers in her hair and guiding her to tilt her head and deepen their kiss. She moans into his mouth, which gives him the chance to slip his tongue between her lips. He tastes like the ale they were drinking mixed with something else… something distinctly Trevor. Sypha doesn’t protest as he explores her mouth and pulls on her hair -- she quite likes it actually.

But, there’s only so much submission Sypha can withstand before she demands to be in control once more. She crawls closer, reaches a hand out to find Trevor’s leg. She squeezes his thigh before rubbing her fingers inward, closer and closer to the treasure that awaits her between his legs. Trevor groans when Sypha’s fingers finally brush against his erection, and she grins against his mouth. She presses her palm over the firm bump, loving how it trembles under her touch. 

“Shit, keep touching me,” Trevor demands, pulling away enough to fix Sypha with a fiery gaze. 

“Only if you touch me in return,” Sypha bargains with a smirk.

And it seems that Trevor is all too happy to comply, abruptly lowering his hands to grab for the hem of Sypha’s robes and tug it upwards and over her head. She’s given no time to react before she’s sitting there in nothing but her briefs. Goosebumps rise along her flesh as she’s suddenly exposed to the cool night’s air, yet she feels insanely warm all over. Trevor takes a moment to stare at her, and normally Sypha would be embarrassed. But not now. Not while something hot boils under her skin and makes her wet in the most filthy way. 

Sypha breaks the moment, impatience propelling her forward to straddle Trevor’s hips once more. She leans forward to kiss at his neck, licking up the saltiness of his sweat and loving how it tastes. Her hands lay flat across his broad chest and rub over his firm pectorals before drifting downwards, over his toned abdomen, through the trail of dark hair below his belly button. Once her hand reaches his waistband, Sypha can hear Trevor suck in a bated breath. She grins again and presses onward, manages to outsmart the fasteners on his pants and reveal her prize.

“Oh. Wow,” Sypha breathes, glancing down at the stiff member that eagerly greets her. 

“What? Too big for you?” Trevor jests.

Sypha lets out a snort. “Nothing I can’t handle,” she lies.

The ale has done wonders to steel Sypha’s nerves, giving her the courage to stroke a finger along the intimidating length of Trevor’s dick. He sighs shakily, and that reassuring sound makes her heart flutter excitedly. She wraps her hand around his base and begins to slowly move her hand up and down, staring in awe the entire time. No amount of Speakers’ tales could have prepared her for this moment. And, to be honest, she’s not sure she would have been able to handle someone regaling her with erotica stories while sober -- especially not from her grandfather.

“Hm, you handle me so well for a virgin,” Trevor comments, amusement in his voice.

Sypha gives a rough squeeze to Trevor’s shaft, and he grunts. “Shut up and kiss me,” she hisses.

Trevor cranes his head to obey, and Sypha tilts her head back to meet his mouth with her own. This time, she takes the lead, thrusts her tongue into his mouth and licks across his teeth hungrily. She keeps pumping his cock, enjoying how it quivers and twitches depending on how she moves her hand. She pulls back to nibble at Trevor’s lip and draws out more of those delightful groans that make his entire body tremble. 

“You’re not holding up your end of the deal,” Sypha whispers once she pulls back, leaving Trevor breathless.

Those clear blues blink down at her, obviously dazed for a moment, and she thinks she will forever cherish that expression. “Huh, my bad,” Trevor replies, flashing a grin as he snakes his hands around Sypha’s waist. He squeezes playfully at her ass, digging his nails deep into her skin and eliciting sweet moans from the mage. “How inconsiderate of me.”

Sypha wants to combat that snarkiness, but she finds herself incapacitated by a rather deft hand rubbing her through her briefs. It doesn’t take long before Trevor pushes her briefs aside and slides a finger along her warmth. She shudders and gasps, her hips snapping forward instinctively. He takes his time toying with her, ghosting his fingers among her curls without actually going deeper. Sypha huffs impatiently, moves her other hand down to cup Trevor’s balls and palm them roughly. She’s rewarded with a groan, and those fingers quickly delve between her folds.

“Oh, shit,  _ yes _ !” Sypha whines against Trevor’s jaw. 

“You’re dripping for me, aren’t you?” he teases.

And for once, Sypha doesn’t even want to snap at him. Afterall, Trevor isn’t wrong. She’s like this because of him and him alone. At this point she can’t even blame anything on the alcohol. She certainly feels coherent and sober enough to stop this whenever she wants. But she doesn’t. Because she wants this, wants Trevor’s fingers sliding easily inside of her, his thumb rubbing over her clit, his stiff member leaking in her hand. 

Trevor’s other hand glides up Sypha’s arched back, comes around to her chest and easily engulfs one of her breasts in his palm. He gently squeezes her and pinches her nipple between his fingers, sending waves of pleasure through the mage. Trevor moves adeptly, seems to know exactly how to handle Sypha; it’s obvious that he’s done this before, has more than likely bedded hundreds of women. And that should probably make Sypha feel inadequate and intimidated. Yet, she feels quite the opposite. She wants to do whatever possible to prove herself, to do better than all of the women Trevor has been with before. To say she’s competitive is an understatement.

“Do you want me?” Sypha whispers right against Trevor's ear. Her voice is so breathy and salacious that she can hardly believe it's her own.

Trevor groans in response and turns his head to meet Sypha's eyes. “More than I want another bottle of ale,” he replies, cracking a half-smirk. 

Sypha kisses him hard, so hard that their teeth clink, and they both let out grunts of pain. But she doesn't care. She just needs to wipe that stupid smirk off of Trevor's face. Her grip on his cock tightens, and she rubs her thumb along his slit, pushes down against the foreskin. It earns her a choked groan and more precum dribbles from his member.

“Stop teasing me, hon,” Trevor grumbles against her mouth.

“I will once you fuck me.”

And Trevor doesn't have to be told that twice. His hands are suddenly on Sypha's hips, pushing her briefs down and helping her scramble out of them. She gasps and has to put both hands on Trevor’s shoulders to keep her balance as he practically manhandles her in his haste. He pulls her flush against his chest and lowers one hand around her back to position his cock at Sypha's dripping entrance. 

“We're at the point of no return--”

“Shut up and fuck me already,” Sypha snaps insistently, clawing at Trevor's chest. 

Trevor meets Sypha's glare with that fucking smile plastered on his mouth, and she thinks for a moment that he's just going to toy with her, but then his fingers are gripping her hard and he's slowly lowering her onto his lap. She feels the warmth of his dick pressing against her, making her stomach clench in anticipation. Sypha sucks in a deep breath, closes her eyes, and buries her face into the crook of Trevor’s neck. This entire time her mind has been foggy with alcohol and lust, but now that she's begun to sober up, the weight of this situation is crashing down on her. She's really here, naked, about to have intercouse with Trevor fucking Belmont. How did she let this happen?

“Oh,  _ shit _ , Sypha, hon,” Trevor groans as the distance closes between them, as the blunt tip of his dick penetrates her with little resistance.

Sypha quivers, her nerves subsiding just enough from hearing the adoration in Trevor's voice. She relaxes and reminds herself to breathe. This is fine, she can do this. She feels him filling her up, feels herself opening up for him, and it’s so deliciously good. Trevor is pulling Sypha down at an agonisingly slow pace, and she wants nothing more than to just slam herself into place. But, whispered tales of painful first-times echo in the back of her mind, advising her to take caution and just follow her partner's lead.

It feels like forever, as if Trevor's dick must go on for miles, before Sypha finally finds herself seated flush in his lap. He's so deep inside of her, stretching her in places she never thought could be reached. Neither of them move for a while, and for that Sypha is thankful. She feels hot and sensitive, and she fears that if they begin moving too soon she may just pass out. 

“You good?” Trevor whispers into her hair. His voice sounds just as strained as she feels.

“Y-yeah. Keep going,” Sypha replies, trying to sound composed and confident, but her shaky voice betrays her.

She feels his lips press against her head in a gentle kiss before the hands on her hips are easing her upwards. Sypha lets out a trembling sigh, struggles to find the words to describe just how good Trevor’s cock feels pulling out of her. He seems to feel the same if the low growl he lets out is any indication. She wraps her arms around Trevor’s shoulders and turns her head to kiss along his neck, which quickly turn into greedy nibbles. The noises Sypha draws out from him only encourage her and fuel that fire burning inside of her. She begins to take back some control and wiggles her hips just the slightest once he’s barely inside of her entrance.

“Ohfucking _ Christ _ !” Trevor grunts, surprise making his voice loud.

There’s the sound of stirring across the room again, and Sypha glances through her peripherals at the Speakers. She holds her breath and tenses as she stares through the darkness, scarcely making out the shadow of someone shuffling about. Please please  _ please _ let them still be asleep. Sypha doesn’t want their fun to come to a horrifically embarrassing end. However, the idea of being caught like this, doing something that she really shouldn’t be… it’s kind of exhilarating. It makes her heart pound erratically, makes her blood rush in her ears, makes her feel  _ alive _ . 

“Heh, my apologies.”

Sypha lets her breath out in a sigh once the threat of being discovered subsides. They’re in the clear, for now. She narrows her eyes up at Trevor, but he ducks his head and peppers kisses along her clavicle. He licks and nibbles at her skin as he makes his way down to his goal, lapping one of her nipples into his hot mouth. Sypha can feel a moan bubbling in her throat, so she slaps a hand over her lips to stifle it. Trevor reverberates with a quiet chuckle before he sucks hard on her nipple, rubbing at it with his tongue, pinching it between his teeth. She quivers with the pleasure, unable to be patient a second longer, and slams her hips down.

“ _ Hnnng-- _ ” Trevor groans, and thankfully he has a mouthful of her tit or else he may have actually woken someone up this time.

Nevertheless, there’s only so much noise Sypha’s palm can quiet, and her own moan comes out louder than she had anticipated. Before she can even realise her blunder, Trevor’s free hand has made it’s way to her throat and grips her just hard enough to threaten her airflow. Sypha feels a whole new wave of excitement wash over her, and she glances down at him, hoping that he can see her delight. Meanwhile, she swivels her hips and moves experimentally up and down on his dick, searching for that perfect angle and rhythm. 

“Faster,” Trevor murmurs from between Sypha’s breasts. She blinks at him, smirks, and very deliberately disobeys. She lifts her hips, and then remains hovering in his lap with his tip twitching between her folds. He grumbles a curse and glares up at her as a warning. She tests him some more by twirling her hips and letting out quiet whimpers. “Fucking  _ hell _ , woman.”

Sypha grins triumphantly until the hand around her throat surges up towards her mouth and roughly shoves two fingers between her lips. Her eyes widen in surprise, and she’s tempted to bite down on the intrusive digits, but decides against it. Trevor obviously has something planned for her, and she’s willing to accept her punishment for being a brat. After all, she may just enjoy it.

In mere seconds the tables have turned, Trevor taking charge with a vengeance. He grabs onto Sypha’s hip hard and bucks up into her. The sound of skin slapping together echoes around them, but neither of them seems to care. He holds onto the mage as he quickens his pace, fucking up into her desperately, hitting her in all the right spots and making the sticky heat in her gut twist and build. 

Sypha moans fervent encouragements around the fingers in her mouth as she gets closer and closer to her orgasm. She feels herself tensing up instinctively, buries her hands in Trevor’s hair and pulls hard. His mouth is back on her breasts, sucking and biting at the puckered nipples. Sypha grinds her hips into Trevor’s as she desperately seeks release; it’s so close that it hurts. She thinks he must be near his climax too, because his movements have become increasingly erratic, less smug and teasing. His grip on her becomes tighter with each thrust, and his fingers plunge further down her throat, making it impossible to swallow her saliva so it just dribbles down her chin. 

With one particularly powerful thrust, Sypha feels the wet heat in her abdomen explode. She’s reduced to a shuddering mess as her breath escapes her lungs in a whimpering keen. Trevor fucks her through her orgasm, his thrusts unrelenting and hard. She can feel every delicious inch of his hot dick massaging her insides, plunging ever deeper and lighting her tender nerves on fire. Trevor presses his mouth right between Sypha’s breasts and groans quiet praises against her sweaty skin that ease her back to her senses. She forces herself to move, to chase after her rapidly declining high with graceless swivels of her hips. 

“Oh  _ fuck _ , Sypha,” Trevor grunts right before he suddenly shoves her off his lap.

Sypha tries to protest. She doesn’t want him to stop and let the fuzzy warmth of her orgasm fade. However, she realises all too late that Trevor has met his limit and is painting white ribbons of cum over her thighs and stomach. She watches with wide, curious eyes, enthralled by the image of Trevor’s face scrunched in immense pleasure, his brows knitted and his lips parted to let out breathy groans. He wraps a hand around himself and milks out every last drop from his twitching cock until it begins to go flaccid. 

When Trevor finally looks up to meet Sypha’s gaze, he flashes a lopsided grin. “Never met a Speaker that likes riding cock,” he comments impishly. 

Sypha rolls her eyes despite her face heating up with embarrassment. “You’re a fucking pig,” she spits as she fumbles to remove herself from his lap. Her legs don’t want to cooperate and are already beginning to go stiff.

“Aw, come on, hon. Don’t be such a prude. There’s nothing wrong with liking a good fuck,” Trevor coos, reaching out to grab Sypha’s wrist. He tugs on her arm to keep her from going far as he reaches out for his cloak with his other hand. “Let me at least be a decent pig and clean you up.”

Begrudgingly, Sypha lies down on Trevor’s bedroll while he swipes his tattered cloak over her abdomen to clean the sticky mess he made. To be honest, she really wanted to try a taste of his cum… for research, of course. She refuses to make eye contact, turning her head to the side and staring at the dying embers of the fire that cast long hazy shadows across the dark room. Trevor’s movements are slow and deliberate, and if she didn’t know better, she would describe him as caring and gentle. But that can’t be the case. He must just be tired or afraid of her wrath. 

Once she feels that Trevor has finished cleaning her off, Sypha sits up to put her clothes back on. Instead, she finds herself face-to-face with the hunter. “What do you want now, Belmont?” she hisses indignantly. 

“One more kiss for the road?” 

How can Sypha deny Trevor when he’s staring at her with those beautiful blues, when he smells strongly of musk and sweat, is still flushed from their activities, and his lips glisten wetly, invitingly? Of course she obliges, lets her eyes drift shut as she leans forward and kisses him unhurriedly. Sypha trembles just the slightest, and her heart thumps loudly in her ears. Is she nervous? That’s impossible, especially considering what they just got done doing. But, something about this kiss is different. It’s slow and patient and it makes her lean closer and reach a hand up to touch his bare chest.

And just like that, Trevor yanks himself away, rudely ending the moment. Sypha whines low in her throat before she can stop it, and she opens her eyes to glare at him. Trevor replies with an amused chuckle before he moves to grab their discarded clothes.

“My sincere apologies, hon. As much as I would take great pleasure in a round two, we really need our rest for tomorrow,” he murmurs, handing Sypha her robes. “Having said that, as long as I live, you’ll always have a dick to ride.”

Sypha responds by striking out at Trevor’s bicep with the back of her hand. She doesn’t say anything, won’t even look at him because his words, albeit lewd, have made her chest tighten in a way that she doesn’t want to admit to. After pulling her clothes on, Sypha moves to stand, but once more Trevor stops her. She grumbles and tries to tug herself free.

“Sypha?”

She sucks in a breath and glances over her shoulder at him.

“Sleep with me tonight. Please.”

And that’s how Sypha ends up curled against this stupid man she just met, feeling warm and safe and grinning like an absolute fool. The sound of his heartbeat lulls her to sleep, and she thinks that’s the best night’s rest she’s ever had.

**Author's Note:**

> *"Se Îmbăta" roughly translates to "drunk/to be (or get) drunk" from romanian.  
> **"Neașteptat" translates to "unexpected" from romanian.


End file.
